


to jupiter and back

by taenzanite



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bad Astronomy References because I wrote this instead of studying for science, Cuddling & Snuggling, Existential Crisis, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Non AU, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, an unnecessary amount of nihilism cause I’m an existential bitch, just a teensy bit of that though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 19:11:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taenzanite/pseuds/taenzanite
Summary: “did you-” jisung’s mouth opens and closes. “did you really kick me out of our room just so you could make a blanket fort?”





	to jupiter and back

**Author's Note:**

> heya there,, so I hope you like this cause I sure don’t but I sure suffered for it anyways! I’ve been really struggling with writing lately, and I have complained very loudly about it to a great many people. 
> 
> luckily(or unluckily), my love for soft minsung persevered and I managed to churn out this mess! get ready for pretty much 1.8k words of me projecting my feelings onto minho(especially those relating to jisung because I Love Him). enjoy, I guess. 
> 
> ps. yes I am Making A Point about how jisung, and every other idol ever, is actually human and therefore capable of making mistakes! and learning from those mistakes! thanks for coming to my ted talk!

minho is taught about the pointless nature of his existence at a young age. 

thus, he spends nearly the entirety of his teenagedom spiralling into existential crisis after existential crisis. space is big. the universe is incomprehensibly vast.

he is small. so small. he is nothing.

he learns how to pick himself back up though, brush the dust of the merciless universe off his metaphorical pants and move the hell on, lest he remain lonely too. he learns how to act like he doesn’t care, how to act like he doesn’t give a shit about the horrible world he’s been forced to live in, learns how to fit in and smile when everything is upside down.

overall, teenagedom was good. not much complaining to do there, really.

(see, that’s what he learned to say.)

he moves into his eighteenth year optimistically; at least as optimistically as a hopeless nihilist can muster. this is probably helped by an abundance of booze, some good friends and the fact that he’s sort of acquired a goal.

trainee life is hard, but it’s a good kind of hard, a good thrum of pain.

he’s constantly pushing himself to extents he didn’t even know the human body could sustain, and yet he’s still going, still keeping his head up. he thinks about death and existentialism and meaninglessness a bit less these days.

and then there are the other trainees, some of who cannot keep their heads up, so he watches them descend, until he can’t see them anymore and he’s on top, he has to stay on top.

people are withering around him, and it feels  _good._

“congratulations, stray kids will debut as nine.”

 _he_ is withering.

it doesn’t feel good.

he’s debuting.

-

humans are animals.

this is a fact minho finds himself reflecting upon in the middle of a hectic dressing room, as he eyes the replay of the stray kids performance blasting on the tv, as he listens to the heavy hum of stress and anxiety lying under the chaos of the eight boys scattered around him.

humans are animals.

humans make mistakes, we have been designed to make mistakes and learn from them. it’s the reason why, when minho was really little, he was surprised when he came to the realization that humans are actually animals.

because humans learn and pull through and end up on top. always. even in a vast, pointless universe, humans convince themselves they’re on top.

minho stares at jisung and thinks about how humans are animals.

jisung’s eyes are trained intensely on the tv, mouth wide open in the midst of his concentration.

minho’s eyes flick back to the tv, and he can practically hear jisung flinch from across the room as he watches jisung trip in the middle of the performance.

jisung is crouched in a corner with his head in his hands and minho thinks about how jisung is a human.

-

“hyung!” minho hums and smiles to himself, completely ignoring the battering his small dorm room is enduring. “hyung, what the fuck? I’m tired!”

“welcome to the club!” minho calls back amusedly, trying to wrestle a blanket into place. he pauses thoughtfully and then creeps over to the door, cracking it open an inch or two.

“can’t wait until I switch roommates,” a distinctly disgruntled jisung comes into view, bitching to himself. minho grins widely at him, perfectly aware of the fact that he probably looks like a chesire cat about to snap up their next victim. he kind of feels like it too.

“me neither, darling. anyways, could you grab one of those books off the coffee table in the living room? like the big ones nobody reads and chan just put there to be an aesthetic bitch?” jisung scowls suspiciously at him. minho pouts. “c’mon, please?” it’s probably the dim lighting of the dorm’s hallway, but it almost looks like jisung’s eyes catch on minho’s lips. _definitely not_. “I’ll let you in, okay? just grab me a book, please?”

“fine, weirdass.” jisung stomps off huffily. minho smiles after him, before turning to survey the masterpiece of blankets and pillows before him.

maybe this will cheer his jisung up.

“I got your stupid book,” jisung’s voice resonates through the cheap wood again; and minho flings the door open to snatch the heavy book- it’s about australian flora, proof chan bought it, minho notes with amusement.

jisung stomps in petulantly, mumbling something about how it’s been a shitty enough day already, and how he should really-

but then he stops in his tracks, and minho catches a glimpse of his signature Confusion Face as he shoulders past him to place the book atop a couple of blankets to prevent them from slipping, with the air of an architect surveying his creation.

“did you-“ jisung’s mouth opens and closes. “did you really kick me out of our room just so you could make a blanket fort?”

“only for you, darling,” minho singsongs and jisung ducks his head, an action minho finds his chest squeezing with an unexpected bout of fondness over. _ridiculous_. “c’mon!” with that, minho grabs jisung’s hand and drags him into the depths of the little fort, barely missing knocking the entire thing down on the way. it is a bit unsteady.

“it’s a bit unsteady, sorry,” minho states breathlessly, when they’re sitting across from each other each other under the gauzy ceiling of blankets.

the harsh incandescent lights of their room filter through the blankets, softened into hazy hues of yellow. jisung stares upwards, his eyes caught in a smile. if minho’s breath gets caught awkwardly in the back of his throat upon seeing the way the light reflects against jisung’s dark eyes, well, that’s just a coincidence.

“no,” jisung murmurs. “this is- this is great, hyung.” their hands are still tangled in minho’s lap, and jisung’s stout fingers squeeze shakily at minho’s hands. they’re warm(jisung runs warm) the hot skin of his palms contrasting against the cool metal of his rings(the one on his index finger is from malaysia, the other one was a gift from felix, this one here was bought at a street market-).

(minho feels a tad dizzy all of a sudden.)

minho flops onto his side, the warm, safe light surrounding jisung spinning a little. jisung comes down with him, landing practically on top of him, a squeak of laughter escaping him and god, jisung’s laugh. minho closes his eyes and laughs with him.

jisung is in minho’s arms, and everything is tinted golden and pretty.

minho might never say it aloud, but he’s so damn happy here. jisung’s breath on his collarbones, smoothing one thumb over jisung’s knuckles, letting his other hand sift through his frazzled hair. this is, simply, where he likes to be, revelling in something he can never have. his bones feel all shivery and his head is slow and easy and minho isn’t thinking about death every two seconds.

“hey hyung,” minho’s eyes drift back open to the sight of jisung pursing his lips and absently drawing circles on minho’s chest.

“hey, sungie,” minho says quietly. he’s almost scared of talking too loud and shattering... this.

“today sucked,” jisung un-purses his lips and twists them to the side instead. minho thinks he should probably stop looking at jisung’s lips.

“the universe sucks,” minho says but increases the head pats sympathetically.

“I fucked up the choreo, you know, on show champ.” jisung sighs and gently knocks his forehead against minho’s chest. his voice lowers even more, like that will hide the way it cracks. “pd yelled at me.”

“oh, sungie,” minho exhales, one part sad for jisung and the ensuing shame minho knows follows an episode like that, and two parts pissed at the pd. like really, who yells at _jisung_? it’s jisung, who’s demeanour generally matches that of a traumatized squirrel when he gets scolded. it’s jisung. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, what with our, you know, lives, but mistakes are actually okay.”

jisung _mmh_ s noncommittally against minho’s chest.

“they _are_ , dumbass,” minho cradles jisung’s head in his hands, tipping it upwards. he swipes the pads of his thumbs over jisung’s cheeks, under his glassy eyes. “we’re human. you’re human.

mistakes are our thing.”

jisung does something funky with the side of his mouth, like he’s trying not to smile and failing.

(why is minho looking at jisung’s mouth again?)

“but people don’t think so. we’re not, like, human in their eyes, so we can’t make mistakes, you know?” the little half smile is gone again.

“well, fuck them. those people are humans too. hell, they make mistakes too. and one of those mistakes is ever thinking wrongly about you. cause you’re kind of great. in case you hadn’t noticed.” minho says emphatically, quickly, all at once.fuck being quiet and careful. jisung smiles, full out this time, and breathes a tingly laugh against minho’s neck.

“you’re great too, hyung. the best.” jisung is smiling right in minho’s face, and it’s kind of. a lot. “you made me an entire blanket fort. definitely the bestest.”

“I know, I know,” minho doesn’t want to close his eyes, he doesn’t want to miss any of the details of jisung’s face, but at the same time, he doesn’t think he can bear... all this. he breathes and closes his eyes and thinks of the universe and breathes.

“the best. the best hyung,” jisung mumbles, almost to himself. “best, prettiest, coolest hyung. my pretty hyung.”

minho opens his eyes, and holy _shit_ , was jisung always this close? was he always this close and looking at minho like that? like the saccharine and syrup of maraschino cherries? was he?

jisung’s hands are resting against his jaw, hot and trembly, and he’s really close and also the most beautiful thing minho has ever seen.

minho is at jupiter’s core. he’s being melted inside out and vaporized until he can’t breathe anymore. he can’t be alive, he can’t be here, but he is. he’s breathing. everything is tinted hotly, and there’s the stuff of the sun, of stars all around him. everything is made of stardust, minho knows that, his essence is stitched together with traces of it. but in jisung, it’s so potent. there is the stuff of stars in his eyes and on his mouth and hands. minho stares at him, feels the waves of heat radiating from the leftovers of stars.

this is impossible, minho can’t be here, how is he not dead yet? he can feel himself vaporizing, his bones feel all shivery, and he should most definitely be dead right now.

but jisung’s lips are on minho’s, hot and good and syrupy and he is so happy to be alive. he’s got the stuff of stars in his hands and he fists his hands in jisung’s hair, gasping through the kiss.

jisung tastes like something sweet and wild and real, and minho thinks about life and death and stars and jisung, jisung, jisung.

the universe is big, bigger than you can ever imagine. there is endless nothingness and everything is pointless.

but minho has found his own little miracle. he’s found the stuff of stars and the fabric of the universe stitched into jisung and he thinks he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> come follow me on  twt  COWARDS


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